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Bane
In the year 0, the Goddesses Carvahlia, Savadine, and Alasharr, disappeared from the world. Lost? Abandoned? Forgotten? That depends on who you asked. For the dwarven king Stonejaw it was a matter of infection. His people, the Bane, were a tribe of proud dwarves touched by Carvahlia herself, granting them divine abilities and marking them with glowing red eyes, and under his rule, they practice a balance between a belief in a Goddess and the power within their dwarven blood. Before battles, warriors would pray to Carvahlia to watch over them and grant them strength. But these prayers were just halfhearted words, said only in case they should fall in combat. But in Stonejaw's eyes, the trinity was weakened by the time Savadine spent playing with cats, and Alasharr's emphasis on thought before action. This weakening could be why the Goddesses are nowhere to be found. The detrimental relationship was the reason Stonejaw couldn't allow himself or his people to fully commit themselves to Carvahlia. How could they praise a goddess that willingly put herself at risk? Of course, there were some who held Carvahlia's mantle high. A devout group that praise her for the accomplisment of the dwarves, citing her transference of strength into their people was the crux upon which their people flourished. The most faithful of these Bane was Stonejaw's youngest son, a dwarf who would come to be known only as Ironside. His faith in Carvahlia was strong as seen by the pendant of her likeness which dangled from his neck at all times, and the symbol of her followers emblazoned on his chestplate. It was from this belief that Ironside drew his sense of duty, his wisdom, and his strong sense of mercy. As it has been told through their living mouthpiece, Elundra, who too is now missing from the world, the goddess that preached a message of unity and compassion among the tribe. For the greater good, they must work together without prejudice. The greater good, however, was something that Grimtoe, the elder son of Stonejaw, spat at. Mercy and compassion were crutches on which those lacking the stones to take what was theirs, supported themselves. And the Goddess Carvahlia was the blight of the dwarven spirit. Grimtoe saw how the Goddess had tamed his brethren, taking the teeth from once great warriors. The dwarves had seen the beasts on the horizon, cliffsides of the northern regions and conquered them, bending nature to their every will. They had torn out their insides and used them to build their kingdom on to the mountains face, so for miles all could see what the dwarves were capable of. And the strengths with which these feats were accomplished came from the thickness of their dwarven blood and hide, not from some floozy in the sky. Carvahlia turned strong dwarves lame, and Grimtoe made sure they knew it. With the loss of Carvahlia, Stonejaw had taken offense. The Shroud's and Revenant's Goddesses surely put her in harm's way, and he saw this as his way to unite the people, but in his own way. Under his command, the Bane set out to take the Southern lands. Stonejaw saw his expansion as the only way to protect not only his own people, but the Shroud and Revenant as well. They had to be protected from their own weakness. Of course, they were met with opposition, but when Stonejaw eventually breached and occupied their towns, he was just and fair, like he'd been in the battle that led them there. Just because they were warring, there were still rules to follow and his opposition were still the people of his world. They were just confused, and couldn't see the forest for the trees. In hopes of helping his father in breaching the Shroud's defenses, Grimtoe and a small band of Bane made their way in to the Shroud's fortifications under cover of darkness and were able to kidnap the Chieftain. Once back behind Bane walls, Grimtoe and his followers tortured the Tabaxi, shaving his mane and forcibly declawing the proud leader, beating him within an inch of his life. Grimtoe left his broken body outside the city walls with a letter tied around his neck that read,"If we could do this to your chieftain, what could we do to each of you?". When Stonejaw heard of the unauthorized attack and mistreatment of the Tabaxi ruler, he ordered Grimtoe to be detained and pulled to the public square. Once there, Stonejaw had him held down while they pried the fingernails from his sons hands and shaved him of his beard both of which he pouched and sent with a courier to the tabaxi walls in hopes of quelling the storm his son started. Worse yet, he stripped Grimtoe of every armoring he wore, which marked his status among the tribe, effectively removing him from his royal status. The courier never returned and Stonejaw expected the worst, his disappointment in his son growing every passing day. A few months later, the guards woke to Stonejaw's bloody body, littered with puncture wounds. Someone had come and struck in the night. Convinced it was a retaliatory attack by the Shroud and fueled by his uncontrollable rage, Grimtoe and his men geared up, planning to march to the tabaxi city. However, they were headed off by Ironside and his men, who told them that his attack was unauthorized and this was not the way to handle this. Grimtoe's rogue actions had already caused the death of a courier, and now their father. The Shroud and the Bane were now even, and no further actions against the Tabaxi would be taken. With his blood pumping, Grimtoe guffawed at his brother's arrogance. How dare he assume he was to be the successor? That seat belonged to the eldest son. But Ironside reminded him that he had been stripped of his position with the removal of his armor, and as such was no longer eligible to rule. After a heated debate resulting in the onlooking dwarves agreeing with such a ruling, Grimtoe challenged his brother to one on one combat; a challenge no respectable dwarf could turn down. Especially not the new ruler. The brothers engaged in combat, fighting tooth and nail, trading blow for blow. The fight lasted for what seemed to be hours with neither combatant showing sign of slowing. Long after the sun had passed the apex of the sky, both brothers were covered in a sludge of blood, sweat, and mud. Late in to the fight, Ironside's foot slipped on the loosened dirt, and that was the opening Grimtoe had been looking for. Over his many years of training, Grimtoe had developed a finishing move in which he used the end of his spiked boot to puncture the lungs of the challenger. It had become a thing of fable in the tribe. For as much as he used it though, his younger brother had taken not. What Grimtoe didnt know, was that his younger brother had fashioned a side plate of Adamantine which he was wearing under his dressings. Grimtoe's boot met the metal plate with an ear piercing clang and a wave of silence washed over the crowd as a broken spike skittered off to the side, Grimtoe stumbled back, falling to the ground. Ironside quickly jumped up and placed his axe blade to his brothers neck, commanding him to yield. He would not kill his own brother, he proclaimed. He had proven to the tribe that he had won, and in the coming days they would need each and every warrior to fight. The Goddesses had preached of a unity of all the clans, and Ironside said it needed to start from within the Bane. He pulled his brother to his feet, and once up, Grimtoe immediately pushed him away. He yelled out to the onlookers," If you follow this man, a man who couldn't finish an opponent when necessary, a man who still suckled at the tit of his whore god's mercy, then they were all damned; the same fate of the fallen king.". Taking his leave, Grimtoe and his followers turned and made their way back to the mountains where they faced any oncoming forces with a stiff middle finger. The tribe now divided, the newly named Ironside abandoned his fathers crusade and pulled his followers deep in to a network of underground tunnels where they would hide and hope the Shroud's lust for revenge had been sated.